


Silk

by LittleLinor



Category: Cardfight!! Vanguard
Genre: Amputation, Body Horror, F/M, Oviposition, This Is Actually Consensual But Uuuuuuuuuuuh, implied vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 21:25:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12968730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLinor/pseuds/LittleLinor
Summary: Children need to stay warm, before they come into the world.(Please mind the tags, it's Exactly What It Says On The Tin)





	Silk

**Author's Note:**

> Someone said this should get written, so written it was. I should probably have watched the episode first, but oh well. Sorry if Gredora's speech patterns are off. PLEASE DON'T TAKE THIS FIC SERIOUSLY I DIDN'T AIM FOR ACCURACY

It's almost like his body is whole again.  
Almost, because for all the eggs being crammed into his chest and stomach are pushing his flesh apart to settle snugly in, they don't hide the pain or the gaping loss of a part of his body. If anything, the pressure of them squeezing against his very lungs is making the pain shoot up, almost enough to hide that coming from what used to be his limbs.  
 _How am I… still alive…_  
Magic, a part of him that had believed in the cards enough to draw him to the game and keep him _hooked_ whispers. No matter how strong spider silk is, could the weaving coating his torn-off limbs and the inside of his stomach really stop blood like that without magic?  
He'd ask, but he hasn't been able to use his voice for several minutes now. Screaming and the abuse to his lungs seems to have broken in beyond repair.  
Something shuffles near his ear and he looks up, bleary, along a dark leg that's almost cradling the side of his head, and up to her body—or what's visible of it, her lower half still lowered against his stomach as the cavity in his chest is filled even more.  
“You're a sturdy one,” she coos, chin propped on her delicately fisted hand. “I might even be able to fit the full load. Aren't you proud?”  
Somewhere, deep inside, a part of it is, but any attempts to even think of saying it only make the pressure against his lungs ram his throat with nausea.  
His chest stretches again, sending a tearing wave of pain through his body, and she rises up from him with a smile, throwing another net of silk over the bursting cavity and weaving it into place, keeping him closed, the eggs safe inside.  
Another thread lands on his shoulder, and the leg next to his head curves to slide underneath it, raising him enough to wrap it around him.  
“It'll keep you nice and warm until they hatch,” she half-explains, half-reassures as the silk wraps and wraps around his body, supporting and restraining and shaping him.  
He hopes she'll also be there when they do.


End file.
